The limping woman sat with her back against the outer wall of the main gate, clutching her deeply slashed abdomen.

“…This is…”

“We knew this would happen, Sister Tang. No matter what we saw, there was no way it would end well.”

“Even knowing that… it’s still sad. Maybe I’ve grown attached without realizing it.”

Tang Sowol and Seo Mun-Hwarin wore downcast expressions. In contrast, Seol Lihyang remained composed.

Because she had a certainty within her that she couldn’t explain. She still didn’t know what that certainty was, but it was there.

While the three reacted in their own ways, Cheon Hwi-da, upon discovering the dying limping woman, dashed toward her like a madman.

He embraced her and shouted something.

“We still can’t hear their conversation.”

“Well, that’s to be expected. In exchange, we’re allowed to stay this long.”

While the other two reacted with regret, Seol Lihyang simply focused, silently watching the limping woman.

Just as their voices were inaudible, their features were also blurred, like shrouded in fog, making it impossible to lip-read.

And yet, Seol Lihyang stared intently at the limping woman.

As if she were trying to pierce through something, or recall something long buried.

Time continued to pass as each of them mourned in their own way.

Cheon Hwi-da kept shouting something, while the limping woman continuously shook her head in sorrowful denial.

Eventually, Cheon Hwi-da lowered his head. His trembling hand reached into his robe and took out a pear.

That moment—

Fwip.

Seol Lihyang’s world expanded.

No—more precisely, the clarity of her world suddenly and inexplicably heightened.

The heat from the flames prickled her skin, every grain of sand on the ground was sharply visible…

And the smell of burning wafted into her nose.

Tang Sowol and Seo Mun-Hwarin, who reflexively looked around, didn’t seem to notice any change.

Which meant—this phenomenon was something only Seol Lihyang was experiencing.

Her instincts screamed at her not to let go of this moment, and she sharpened her focus, widening her eyes.

As if to memorize every detail of what was about to unfold.

And perhaps because of that, she was able to hear it.

The voice of the limping woman, who accepted the pear from Cheon Hwi-da, hugged it dearly, and whispered softly with a peaceful expression as if she had no regrets.

— “Blood Wolf… You really are a bastard.”

Yin.

Never once before had they heard a voice in this Heartscape. Even if they could circumvent the mental restriction, they couldn’t break it.

But now, Seol Lihyang alone heard the limping woman’s voice.

If this world was truly Cheon Hwi-da’s Heartscape, then what was the meaning of this sudden phenomenon?

It didn’t take long for Seol Lihyang to reach the answer.

It was engraved.

So deep and vivid that not even the mental restriction could conceal it—this scene had been etched into Cheon Hwi-da’s very soul.

And the reason why only Seol Lihyang could hear it—

“…That’s… my voice.”

More mature, more affectionate—but unmistakably Seol Lihyang’s own voice.

The moment she realized this, Seol Lihyang touched the core of Cheon Hwi-da’s mental restriction—this Heartscape’s hidden truth.

What if, when she first met Cheon Hwi-da, he hadn’t helped her?

What if she’d been beaten by the Hao Clan warrior and dragged away?

What if she had been forced to learn seduction techniques under the Hao Branch Leader?

What if she’d never met Cheon Hwi-da, never become a Tang Clan guest, never learned proper martial arts?

An endless chain of what-ifs. Branches that split into more branches.

Yet among those tangled possibilities, one stood out clearly.

What if Cheon Hwi-da finding her had not been a coincidence?

What if his willingness to take a risk for her had not been an impulsive whim?

What if she had never received help from anyone, and come to distrust the world?

Events that had happened, events that would happen, and events that now would never happen.

After stumbling through countless misjudgments and abandoning conventional thinking, she finally reached a single conclusion.

Cheon Hwi-da was neither a man with a secret origin nor someone reincarnated.

He had simply turned back time.

Regression.

With that one word, all of Cheon Hwi-da’s anomalies and everything she had seen in the Heartscape could be explained.

“It wasn’t a past life! This is—!”

Just as Seol Lihyang gasped, on the verge of shouting—

The limping woman, nestled in Cheon Hwi-da’s arms, whispered something and lowered her head.

And the moment a single tear rolled down Cheon Hwi-da’s cheek—

Hrk…!

A flood of emotion surged up from within Seol Lihyang—emotions that were not her own.

Grief. Rage. Guilt. Hatred. Regret. And above all else, buried within those feelings—longing.

The torrent of overwhelming emotion made her head spin and her breath hitch.

How could a human being carry such feelings and still live?

Perhaps it wasn’t just Seol Lihyang—Tang Sowol and Seo Mun-Hwarin also clutched at their chests with stunned expressions.

At the same time, the surrounding flames felt closer and closer—not that they were actually approaching, but they felt like they were.

As if their very bodies were being burned as fuel instead of the buildings.

Just as Seol Lihyang realized this was part of the Heartscape Cheon Hwi-da often channeled into his martial arts—

The three—Tang Sowol, Seol Lihyang, and Seo Mun-Hwarin—began to rise.

An upward pull, the opposite of the sensation they’d felt when entering the Heartscape.

“Huh? Wh-Wha…?”

“Wait! You can’t just end it here!”

“There’s still a crucial scene left!”

Cheon Hwi-da, radiating an aura of resolute determination, wiped away his tears and drew his sword. He headed into the blazing building.

It was a scene practically screaming that something dramatic was about to happen. They knew because they had shared the overflowing emotions.

Whatever came next would surely be as, or even more, important than what they’d just seen.

But the three of them wouldn’t be able to witness it. Their time in the Heartscape had come to an end.

A cruel yet precise cutoff.

As their consciousnesses rapidly resurfaced—as if propelled by momentum—Seol Lihyang trembled.

And finally, when they opened their eyes back in the real world—

“This… This is mental amputation…”

“Huh…?”

Zhuge Bu, who had been helping them physically and mentally out of sheer intellectual curiosity, had inadvertently become a demon.

“And Cheon Hwi… you really are a bastard…”

Yin.

Cheon Hwi’s face turned deathly pale.

From Seol Lihyang’s perspective, the words had been a mix of residual emotional backlash and her desire to share what she had discovered.

But to Cheon Hwi—it was a direct strike at a buried, painful memory.

“Wait—what did you just say…? Don’t tell me—was that the Blood Demon again…? No, it couldn’t be… Am I still trapped inside the Heartscape…?!”

Cheon Hwi, who’d been through a lot lately, spiraled into confusion.

Meanwhile, everyone else’s attention turned to Seol Lihyang, who had “cast out” the other two as soon as she opened her eyes.

Though Tang Sowol and Seo Mun-Hwarin were also visibly shaken, Seol Lihyang’s reaction stood out even more.

Noticing the stares, Seol Lihyang flinched—then tried to speak up, wanting to share what she’d realized. But—

Ugh!

Her tongue suddenly froze. Not for any profound reason.

But because a powerful impulse told her she shouldn’t speak.

It had been quite some time ago, but Seol Lihyang had grown up in a courtesan house. She had heard and seen many things.

The instincts she had built up unconsciously now stopped her words.

The reason was simple.

“If I say it… Sister Tang will be hurt, won’t she?”

Tang Sowol was fundamentally generous. And to those she had accepted—especially Seol Lihyang and Seo Mun-Hwarin—she was exceptionally kind.

But that was based on the unspoken understanding that she was the main wife.

The reason she had been most shocked earlier, seeing Cheon Hwi with another woman, was because he had slept with someone else before her.

And now she’d learn that that woman… was actually Seol Lihyang?

That the limping woman—howling like a beast, using tools no one had ever seen before, and devoured for an entire day—was her?

This wasn’t about shame.

Even someone like Tang Sowol might falter.

At worst… she might start distancing herself from Seol Lihyang.

And that was the one thing Seol Lihyang wanted to avoid.

Unable to speak the truth, she hesitated.

And those watching began to jump to their own conclusions.

“Hyanga? Why’d you suddenly stop talking?”

“Wait… doesn’t this feel like when Hwi’s mouth gets shut by the mental restriction?”

“You don’t think… just knowing something can pass the restriction on? Strategist Zhuge, is that possible?”

“It’s… not impossible. Extremely difficult, with strict conditions, and the restriction types are limited—but that’s assuming it’s cast from one person to another.”

Prompted by Tang Sowol’s question, everyone—Zhuge Bu, Abbot Jeong Hyeon, Monk Gak-jeong, the Murim Alliance Leader, and even Tang Jincheon—began murmuring.

“Well, this is a problem. If she knows her son-in-law’s secret but can’t share it, what then?”

“No need to worry, Poison King. Your daughter said it herself—White Moon Sword Lord’s restriction is deeply tied to those three. So if the ones involved know, isn’t that enough?”

“Namu Amitabul… I ask the Poison King. Does the restriction only trigger when trying to reveal the information? Not when trying to act on it without telling anyone?”

“So far, that seems to be the case.”

“Click click. Then it’s settled. The process is difficult, but the technique can be repeated. Just use the great art again until the other two realize it.”

With Monk Gak-jeong’s words, the conversation came to a conclusion.

If speaking the truth made it unspeakable, then the solution was simple—repeat the great art until everyone knows.

It was the most effective option available, and everyone nodded in agreement.

“Let’s do that. The Murim Alliance will cover the costs of the great art.”

“I’ll also set aside time once everything’s ready. When I do, could I ask to consult any reference records?”

“No issue. Shaolin’s already declined Esoteric teachings anyway.”

“Thank you all. The Tang Clan will never forget this favor.”

The discussion wrapped up smoothly. In the warm atmosphere, Tang Sowol and Seo Mun-Hwarin patted Seol Lihyang on the shoulder as if to say, don’t worry.

However—

“…Ah. It’s over.”

Seol Lihyang herself was drenched in cold sweat.

She couldn’t tell Tang Sowol.

But staying silent… would eventually lead everyone to find out anyway.

Even without the restriction, this was something that had to be addressed.

After all—Cheon Hwi-da’s Heartscape didn’t just contain memories of her death.

From Cheon Hwi’s behavior and words, one thing was clear:

All of this was ultimately connected to the Heavenly Demon.

Steeling her resolve, Seol Lihyang looked at Tang Sowol.

Elegant appearance. Graceful demeanor. The prestige of the Sichuan Tang Clan. Raised in luxury from a young age—an enviable beauty, even to other women.

…Though I’ve got yin energy on my side, so I’m not completely outclassed.

Muttering inwardly, Seol Lihyang made her decision.

There’s a gap between early and mid Sub-Perfection, but if I’m also at Sub-Perfection like Sister Tang…

Then I just need to become stronger!

At least strong enough to survive Sister Tang’s poison!

It was a conclusion oddly similar to Cheon Hwi’s—to survive until I no longer die from Tang Jincheon’s poison.

***

“So? Can you tell us even just a little of what you saw?”

At Tang Jincheon’s question, Tang Sowol pondered for a moment, then replied.

“…Cheon Hwi-da… had an affair.”

“…huh.”

It was a ludicrous accusation.

And yet—for some reason—all three women, Tang Sowol, Seol Lihyang, and Seo Mun-Hwarin, flushed bright red.

Everyone suddenly felt like they knew exactly what they had seen.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep